


Live To See a New Day

by Reiya_Wakayama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Pack, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Pack Mom Stiles, Puppy Piles, Sheriff Stilinski Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 07:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/884451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sheriff has seen a lot of things in his long career as both a cop and the Sheriff, but two things he can’t bear: the first was his wife’s death and the second is the fact that his son is going to get himself killed one of these days and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Live To See a New Day

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I wanted to see happen.

Anthony Stilinski has seen a lot of things in his long career as both a cop and the Sheriff, but two things he can’t bear: the first was his wife’s death and the second is the fact that his son is going to get himself killed one of these days and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

So the fact is he isn’t surprised when he comes home to find bloody foot prints trailing up the path to the door and disappear inside. Normally, a parent would be bursting into the house, afraid that something terrible might have happened to their child.

He can’t though. He knows something has happened. But what exactly happened and to who are what he wants to know. He knows his son is involved in something, something big and dangerous and deadly, something he doesn’t want his gun totting, Sheriff Father getting involved in.

He’s gone over everything he can think of: gangs, loan sharks, a cult and let’s not forget all the times people have mentioned seeing his son with Derek Hale, the supposed sometimes acquaintance and exonerated murder suspect.

Sighing, he followed the bloody trail into his own home and up the stairs straight to his son’s room like some morbid trail of bread crumbs. The door is slightly open, blood standing out against the bronze door handle, and he can hear breathing coming from within.

He opens the door expecting to see a bloodied Stiles sitting or maybe lying on his bed or at his desk on the computer. What he doesn’t expect is to find his son seated on the floor, back against the bed, and six sleeping people using him as some sort of weird body pillow.

He isn’t even surprised about the identities of the people, though the brunette girl is new. But he can see Lydia Martin, a coma patient, genius, and possible insane young woman lying next to Vernon Boyd who disappeared with the Reyes girl and came back alone. Next to him is Isaac Lahey, abused child and now an orphan. Scott of course is there as well. Their all curled around Derek Hale who is laying the most on Stiles, whom Stiles is petting light.

“I had hoped you would have the night shift,” Stiles says softly, looking up at his father.

Now that the silence and spell have been broken, he can take a look around the room and see the bloody bandages, scissors and clothing all littering the floor. “Care to explain?” he asks, feeling resigned about everything.

“It’s kind of long,” Stiles admits, at least looking sheepish about his word choice.

“I have all the time in the world,” Anthony states simply and he does if it means finally figuring out what the hell is going on. “Are you at least okay?” he asks and can’t help the way his voice raises and goes sharp near the end.

Isaac makes a noise, shifting and Stiles shushes him, running easy fingers over his curls. The boy quiets and settles back into the pile. “No yelling please. It took me forever to get them calm enough to sleep,” Stiles asks, eyes pleading. “I’m all right dad. Just some bumps and bruises, a scratch or too, nothing serious.”

Anthony sighs in defeat. “All right, son,” he says softly and goes to turn and head back out into the hall to head to his room.

“Dad,” Stiles calls out, barely more than a whisper, “I swear on Mom’s grave, I’ll tell you everything in the morning,” Stiles promises, face gone serious. Anthony nods and leaves the room, shutting the door. He wonders when his son grew up because he sure as hell wasn’t there for it. When did the little boy that he and Anastasia made grow into a man? Anthony looks at the picture of his smiling wife on his nightstand and wonders what she would have done in this situation. Sighing, he starts to get ready for bed; hoping morning will bring about a better outlook on life.

**End.**


End file.
